I confess it's hard to enjoy this holiday when it feels like we're all trapped in a bad 80's movie titled “President's Day,” directed by Stanley Kubrick from a National Lampoon script, starring Rodney Dangerfield as a rogue artificial intelligence that gains supreme executive power and tries to destroy humanity while periodically screaming “I get no respect.” Anyway, since you're here, we may as well do the news...

Well, the Dopey Dotard with Diminutive Digits declared his precious little “state of emergency,” in what I'm now told was actually a press conference, and not, as I initially believed, an extended audition for a One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest remake. Seriously folks, that this drooling idiot wasn't tackled at any point by a flock of cabinet secretaries screaming “IT'S 25TH AMENDMENT TIME, MUTHAFUCKAAAAAAS!!!!” really tells you all you need to know about the character of the Ben Carsons and Steve Mnuchins of the world.

Anyway, the Velveeta Vulgarian helpfully volunteered the information that his fabricated border “crisis” is in no way an actual emergency, and do you ever wonder if maybe his whole Presidency is just an insanely detailed plot to drive his attorneys to madness and suicide?

Two of those attorneys appear to have lied to the Office of Government Ethics* about hush money paid by the Fascist Farthuffer’s Former Fixer, Michael Cohen, during the 2016 campaign. Fear not, House Oversight Chair Elijah Cummings is on the case, as the Oversight Renaissance rolls on and on and on.

Disgraced Hot Tub SpokesGoon Matt Whitaker, fresh off a congressional hearing that has since been pitched to the networks as the pilot for a show titled Fuck ‘Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader’ How About ‘Are You Smarter Than a Dismembered Human Toe?’, has landed a new gig at the Justice Department, collecting a fat taxpayer salary to continue the important work of Finding Out What the Feds Have on his Cheap Grifter Boss.

Looks like former Massachusetts Governor Bill Weld has taken on the tragic task of mounting a primary challenge to Tangerine Idi Amin, and thereby destroying once and for all the NeverTrump movement’s pathetic delusion that there was ever a Republican Party that read long, dry, essays about deficits or trade or privatizing social security, and passionately championed the ideas they found therein, rather than a slobbering white supremacist hate cult, hungry for an authoritarian thug to punish perceived enemies. I am seriously worried that when Weld drops out after Super Tuesday without winning a single state, Bill Kristol will shatter like a dropped brandy snifter at a Hampton's fundraiser.

We learned that the Mueller investigation finally got around to asking Sarah Huckleberry Slanders to quantify just how much treason she's witnessed during her tenure as a gaslighting sockpuppet for the cabal of treacherous crooks squatting in our White House. You sort of hope Rugged Robert started the interview with a smirk and a quick, “So who had the larger inauguration crowd, Obama or your guy? Don't forget it's a crime to lie to the FBI.”

Vice President Mike Pants went to Munich for a big fancy security conference, and when it was time for his speech he went, “Alright y’all, put your hands in the air and give it up for Mr. Donald J. Truuuuuuuuuuump!” only to be met with this stoniest silence in the entire history of the universe. Seriously folks, this was truly magnificent silence. Silence that SCREAMED. Silence that said, clear as a bell, “Fuck you and the horse you road in on, also eat shit, eat all the shit on Earth and then never brush your teeth again.”

Ratfucker Prince Roger Stone, staring down the business end of a prison sentence that's likely to end any lingering internal debates about where to spend his retirement, figured now was the ideal time for thinly-veiled threats of violence against the judge overseeing his case. Smart fellah.

‘Course, I can understand why ol’ Rog is so skittish these days; word is, the Special Counsel has evidence of Stone sliding into WikiLeaks’ DMs, looking for some hawt collusion action. On top of that, he even (allegedly) two-timed everybody's least favorite poorly-groomed fugitive from justice, with Guccifer 2.0, so yeah, one of the President's oldest and closest associates was chit-chatting with Russian intelligence during the campaign, but I'm sure it was mainly gossip about whoever Tay-Tay was dating.

Speaking of jailed associates of the Grand Wizard Grifter, Paul Manafort is SAD that he's facing even more prison time for his many, many, crimes. Yeah, bud, jail looks really shitty. That's one of the big reasons people don't go around committing as many crimes as you did. But hey, if you want to wheel yourself out to performatively demonstrate how unhappy you are to be dealing with the consequences of your role in fucking up my country, I say "thank you sir, for providing me with this delightful content, MOAR PLEASE.” If somebody can give me a live stream of Precocious Paulie weeping into his prison oatmeal while characters reminiscent of the cast of OZ menace him, I will fund that Patreon account, ‘kay?

And speaking of the Bobadook, I hope he went to Costco for those subpoena forms, cuz he's really burnin’ through ‘em these days. The latest recipient of the most sought-after gift in high-class traitor circles is former Cambridge Analytica director Brittany Kaiser, who surely has some tales to tell. In totally unrelated news, Steve Bannon has been googling “How to make gin in a prison sink.”

It's looking more and more like John McCain was one of Lindsey Graham's horcruxes, because the onetime NeverTrump Senator's public calendar keeps filling up with go-on-TV-to-unapologetically-stooge-for-raw-evil-type events. Lindsey's so horny for his Turd Emperor's useless wall that he's not only cheerleading for the totally unconstitutional power grab, he's looking to build the stupid thing with funds that had been earmarked for the construction of a middle school in Kentucky.

Look, middle school sucks, everybody knows that. It's when they take away recess and lock you up with all the other little shits and try to teach you the scientific method and make you read To Kill a Mockingbird while you go through puberty and inflict lifelong psychological trauma on one another, but unlike the Big Dumb Wall, it's something we actually need, Lindsey, so kindly take a seat and shut the fuck up for once.

If by chance Stephen Miller awoke from a fitful slumber Sunday morning, and greeted the day by proclaiming, perhaps in song, “What I want more than anything in the world is to have Chris Wallace eviscerate me and then force-feed me my own intestines live on national television,” then boy oh boy did he get his wish. Now, while I certainly enjoy watching that skeevy little imp squirm, remembering that Miller, who doesn't have two brain cells to rub together but propels himself through life purely on the power of his boundless, snarling, hate, still has the ear of the American President is...not my favorite thing about the state of the world right now.

Heather Nauert withdrew from consideration as Ambassador to United Nations, not because holy shit was she unqualified for the post, but because she once employed a nanny who wasn't legally authorized to work in the U.S. Well, they got Al Capone on tax evasion, so I'll take it.

In a move destined to secure his spot on the Mount Rushmore of Cringe, it seems Weehands McNodick called up Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe one night to say “Hey, I don't want to be weird about it or anything but if you weren't busy later it would be really cool if you could, I dunno, maybe nominate me for the Nobel Peace Prize?” and Abe rolled his eyes and did it, because these days, tending to your country's national security means handjobbing a narcissist's frail ego from time to time.

An additional display of Presidential confidence n’ strength came when Circus Peanut Sydney Greenstreet declared a second national emergency because Saturday Night Live made fun of him again. In a way, Alec Baldwin is the canary in our totalitarian coal mine; as long as there's somebody around to talk Donnie out of throwing Alec in jail or outright assassinating him, there's still hope the Republic will endure.

Throughout all the weekend's other madness, Andrew McCabe's been out there, waving his arms, trying to get literally anyone's attention, like the scientist in the first five minutes of the movie who sees the asteroid hurtling towards the planet, but everybody treats him like he's nuts, and later he gets a split-second “toldja so” reaction shot before all life on Earth is obliterated.

McCabe went on 60 minutes to tell an amusing little after-dinner anecdote about an FBI official briefing the President on the nuclear threat from North Korea, and hitting a wacky snag when the assessment of the American intelligence apparatus ran counter to what Little Donnie Two-Scoops had heard from his BFF, Vladimir. I don't remember how the whole story went, but the punchline was, “I don't care, I believe Putin.”

I don't care. I believe Putin.

Can I just ask, why didn't the whole goddamn world come to a complete stop the minute those words were broadcast? Like, why isn't the entire U.S. Congress changing into their impeachin’ pants right now? If the nuclear codes are in the hands of a dude whose foreign policy is the Whatever Vlad Says Doctrine, we have a real fuckin’ problem, folks. I mainly just don't want to be drafted into the War to Conquer the Baltics for Uncle P, y'know? I think I feel my bone spurs acting up...

I see Anthony Weiner got out of jail, free at last to rejoin the world he damn near single-handedly fucked up back in 2016, when his inability to control his perverted impulses landed his laptop at the FBI, prompting Jim Comey to prioritize the needs of his own ego over the nation's stability and send that stupid fucking letter to Congress that the whole godforsaken world is still paying for two years later and I'm not saying Weiner should be launched into the sun no wait I'm absolutely saying Weiner should be launched into the sun. To be clear: SOMEBODY LAUNCH ANTHONY WEINER INTO THE SUN.

And down in North Carolina, a public hearing exposed the schemes “Pastor” Mark Harris financed to steal the NC-09 House seat from the voters, with a Republican operative confessing to a whole shit-ton of super-illegal ballot tampering. Harris is still, darkly if hilariously, demanding that his tainted “victory” be certified by the State Board of Elections, which is decidedly not what Jesus would do.

Look, I know none of y’all need to be told that Mitch McConnell is an evil, enabling, fuckhead, but if you felt like reading an editorial about what an evil, enabling, fuckhead Mitch McConnell is, well, I am your hookup.

The madness never stops, my friends, and during the drafting of this blog, Roger Stone kinda sorta apologized, or at least his lawyers did, and a bunch of states sued to stop the Marmalade Shartcannon's tyrannical emergency declaration, though nobody seems to have launched Anthony Weiner into the sun as yet.

So that's where we are, folks, and it's only Monday. And it's only February. I'll remind you the groundhog saw his shadow, so we've got an extra ten months of Hell this year. And people wonder why I drink.

You may recall in Monday night's blog, I commented that the news had been a bit on the slow side. The Gods apparently heard me, and decided to teach me a little lesson. Ah, hubris! Anyway, I wore out three different keyboards writing up tonight's post...let's dive in so we can get through this shit before the sun goes out.

Well, the last episode of Shower Cap ended right at the brink of the dueling Beto/Trump rallies in El Paso, so let's pick up where we left off. Of course, Government Cheese Goebbels, still reeling from a string of failures seldom seen since the fall of Rome, retreated to the comforting fantasy of imaginary crowd sizes, which I actually fully support. See, this way, when the REAL crowds show up, at the ballot box, he’s extra surprised and it hurts more.

Oh, and Spawn of Shart, who is so fucking dumb he thinks he looks good with that beard, took a giddy little jab at the nation's “loser” teachers. Or maybe it was intended as a compliment, considering his loser dad is still waiting for the Pelosi's-boot-shaped welt on his ass to fade away. A frothy crowd of the most easily-duped rubes in America, sneering at their old teachers while soaking up further lies from the cheap grifter family that seeks only to pick their pockets? Sounds about right.

And in the latest installment of the coloring-book adaptation of 1984 that is our lives, Team Treasonweasel has begun slowly gaslighting MAGA nation into believing the Big Dumb Wall is already being built. From “build the wall!” to “finish the wall!,” perhaps eventually we'll hear that screeching flock of rectums chanting, “decorate the wall with tasteful tapestries!” long into 2020, even as the wall remains completely imaginary.

And finally, shitting on all the fun we're having laughing at these bumpkins as they scarf down lies while tripping over one another to pay Jared Kushner's legal bills, one of the maniacs lost his shit and assaulted a journalist, a sobering reminder that the President of the United States unapologetically stirs up fear and hatred, all too willing to see blood shed in his name if it keeps him out of jail for one more day.

Also, the Spray-tanned Chalatan, apparently having discovered some of the half-joking commentary about how his unusual lack of a Presidential pet is just one more sign of his sociopathy, declared that getting a dog would be “phony." I'm inclined to agree; any attempt to act as though he is capable of affection for any living creature who is not himself would indeed be fraudulent.

Didja see where Sharty McFly and his craven GOP enablers swiped Hillary Clinton's “Stronger Together” campaign slogan? I get it, campers, you're running out of ideas. You can see where this is going...as 2020 gets closer, you'll see Wee Don hitting the trail in pantsuits, carrying hot sauce with him wherever he goes, eventually unveiling banners that read, “I'm With Herpes.”

And the Republican crusade against bigotry mobilized for righteous war against Rep. Ilan Omar, before heading over to that cookout at Steve King's place. I confess I can barely muster an eye roll at this theatrical hypocrisy anymore. Yes, Mike Pants, I'm sure you're very concerned about equality, but I don't want you to be late for the meeting where you let the Human Version of a Burning Cross, Stephen Miller, set the nation's immigration policy.

Look, Omar tweeted something that she shouldn't have, and she apologized. Watching the Very Fine President demand her resignation before getting updates on the child concentration camps he opened is a little much, don'tcha think? I could keep going, bit I'm gonna pass this one off to special guest artist Jake Tapper.

And while Hairplug Himmler might not care much about the suffering of children, his heart bleeds for an obsolete Kentucky coal plant that, and you're not gonna believe this ZANY coincidence, buys coal from one his major donors. "LET MY PEOPLE GO!” bellowed the President, “AND BY ‘PEOPLE’ I MEAN ‘MY RICH BUDDY'S MONEY!’”

Howard Schultz, continuing his baffling quest to seek the Presidency while possessing all the likability of a mouth tumor, claims he doesn't see color. He won't see votes, either.

Democrat Mark Warner and Republican Richard Burr appear to be at odds regarding the findings of the Senate Intelligence Committee’s investigation into collusion and other crimez. With Wrestlemania just around the corner, it's clear this disagreement can only be settled...INSIDE A STEEL CAGE.

After days of media prodding, the Shart House finally released a little bullshit statement about Fat Q*Bert's annual medical evaluation, assuring America that this waddling old bastard, whose blood type is Crisco and whose brain is deteriorating from exposure to experimental hair tonic fumes, is in perfect health. Sure. And Mexico's gonna pay for the wall.

Perhaps still pining for the banana republic military parade he never got, the Dopey Dotard with Diminutive Digits announced his boldest, most original idea do date: a brand-new parade, of his own creation! On the 4th of July! Perhaps even with fireworks! A new tradition that will carry his name through the ages, 'till the very end of recorded time!

Folks, he really thought he invented the idea of an Independence Day parade. He figured nobody ever considered that before. Probably wandered around the White House, taunting the portraits of his predecessors for their inferior patriotic genius. “No wonder you're not on any currency, Teddy Roosevelt, you dumb CUCK.”

The 35-day government shartdown saw the President making the greatest personal sacrifice of his entire term, and I'm not just talking about his approval ratings. No, the Velveeta Vulgarian, with an iron-willed conviction that surely would have inspired the troops at Valley Forge, weathered the entire duration of the shutdown without a single round of golf...or so we thought.

Demonstrating a relentless drive to solve the problem of his own boredom that he's never once brought to the table on behalf of the American people, Littlefinger had a $50,000 golf simulator installed in the White House. In unrelated news, the mystery of “executive time” has been solved.

Sticking with sports for a while, shout out to rage-filled nitwit who decided he hated seeing black people exercising their free speech rights SO MUCH that he drove his own sporting goods store out of business. Yup, this MacArthur Grant recipient figured he'd retaliate against Nike for their Colin Kaepernick ad by hitting his own dick with a hammer until he went broke. You know this dude watched that El Paso rally and went, “Yeah! Teachers ARE losers.”

Seems our old pal Paul Manafort likes jail so much, he's aiming to stick around awhile. Like, for the rest of his life. Yes, the President's former campaign chair got caught fibbin’ to Bodacious Bob Mueller, thus invalidating his plea deal, and Paulie, I don't think you're gonna be reunited with that ostrich jacket any time soon.

There's a hot new drug making waves from coast to coast, and on the street, they're calling it Alex Jones Losing in Court Over and Over Again. Unnnnnnnnnnnnnnnngh it feels so gooooooooooooooood! That bloated little scatmuncher has to give a sworn deposition in the lawsuit filed by the Sandy Hook families he terrorized for so long, bringing him one step closer to his richly-deserved financial ruin. C'mon man...just one more hit...JUST ONE MORE!

Former Acting FBI director Andrew McCabe sent his old boss a valentine in the form of a media tour promoting his new book about what a dirty crooked crook President Shartcannon is, and how much he prefers breaking laws to obeying them. Honestly I was on the fence about picking this one up until I found out it shits on dear departed Jefferson Beauregard Sessions III as well, documenting his rock-headed goon racism, so okay, Andy, take my fucking money.

The wife of Shart House Communications Czar Bill Shine took to the pneumatic tweeting machine to speak on behalf of...measles. For real, y’all. This lady is out there advocating for MORE MEASLES because measles are great. She thinks having measles prevents cancer (nope), so you should sprinkle ‘em on your kids’ breakfast cereal. Anyway if “eradicating diseases” is a partisan issue now, I am definitely not ever vacationing in a red state again.

William Barr has been confirmed as Attorney General, and yeah, he's a partisan hack who's said a bunch of deeply troubling shit about the Mueller investigation, but he's also such an upgrade over the “masculine toilet” guy that this almost feels like it belongs in the Good News column, and if that isn't evidence that this is Hell, I don't know what is.

President Crotchrot's Large Adult Sons abandoned their plans to start two new hotel chains, because even though they kept their despised family name out of the branding this time around, everyone hates them, and besides, everything they own, down to the laces in their shoes, will wind up forfeited to the government once Mueller's done, so why bother?

The bipartisan border security compromise passed the Senate and then the House, leaving the Shart of the Deal with no wall funding, and in fact significantly less money for barriers than he was offered before the shutdown. In addition, the President must have “Property of Nancy Pelosi” tattooed on his forehead, and do the truffle shuffle before entering the Capitol Building. Truly, a legendary negotiator.

Weehands McNodick says he'll sign the bill, but it looks like, after weeks of flailing and failing, he's finally gonna look the Constitution square in the eye, raise up his tiny, inadequate, fists, and shout, “Come at me, bro,” proclaiming his own blistering incompetence to be a national emergency. In a way, he's sorta right about that one.

Like so much of Tangerine Idi Amin’s reign, the wannabe tyranny of this move is eclipsed only by its pettiness. This addled old dolt really picks THIS dumbass fight for his long-threatened full frontal assault on the rule of law? For an idiotically wasteful "solution" to an imaginary problem? For a little red meat to throw to the already thoroughly-hypnotized crowd that wouldn't abandon him if he came to their house, pissed on the kitchen table, set grandma on fire, and ate the last cupcake?

Obviously, he'll face pushback from Democrats in Congress and, hopefully, the courts...but there's always that nagging little fear that Brett Kavanaugh'll get John Roberts all fucked up on whippits and Jell-O shots and get him to vote to end democracy, isn't there?

And then there's the danger of setting a precedent...if he gets away this, he's just going to turn around and declare another national emergency because Salma Hayek won't go out with him.

ANYWAY....yeah, it's Valentine's Day, but for too many people, February 14th will never be anything but the anniversary of the tragic mass-shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida. The families of the 17 victims who lost their lives a year ago today, like the survivors of Sandy Hook and so many other senseless tragedies before them, marked the day by sharing their stories, in the hope that America will finally free itself from the murderous madness of gun culture.

The stories are, as you can imagine, rough reading, but make time if you can. And maybe take a few of the dollars you've budgeted for tomorrow's post-holiday candy sales and give ‘em to Everytown, or Mom's Demand Action, or Giffords PAC. After so many years of stagnation, we're finally making progress on this issue. Watching freshmen Rep. Lucy McBath help advance a universal background checks bill, in the name of her slain son, gives me great hope for the future. Let's all chip in and get this done.

Hang on to that progress, friends. Even in these dark, insane, days, there really is good news all around us. On gerrymandering in Virginia. On teacher pay in Denver. On the minimum wage in Illinois. Who knows what else, I'm fucking hammered, and probably missed some major shit. The point is, elections have consequences, and we kicked ass in the last round of elections, and we're starting to see the fruits of that ass-kicking.

Makes you want to do it all over again, first this November, and then again in 2020, doesn't it?

...and if you need one last chuckle, I'll bet you'll enjoy this article about the feral assclowns of the Freedom Caucus, adjusting to their new reality as non-entities in the House minority.

The news has been a little slow these past few days, so, like, less a devastating migraine that totally immobilizes you, more a single throbbing pinprick, directly behind your eye, driving you to the brink of madness. A relaxing change, don'tcha think?

So, lots of folks are pissed that their tax refunds have magically vanished under the Trump/Ryan/McConnell tax scam. I'm told Trump voters are particularly upset over this state of affairs, but I can't hear them over the sound of my own voice screaming I FUCKING WELL TOLD YOU SO YOU IDIOT FUCKING RUUUUUUUBES until my vocal cords combust and burn to ash.

Don't worry, though, you'll doubtlessly be pleased with what the GOP donor class is doing with that tax windfall you're not seeing. David Koch is having a 12-foot-tall scale model of his own ballsack sculpted in pure platinum, with precious gemstones for the warts and boils...it's going to be magnificent.

Donnie Two-Scoops is almost as afraid of Elizabeth Warren as he is of stairs, which is why he spends so much time harassing her with anti-Native slurs. With her campaign gaining steam, that's certainly why he felt the need to escalate things, using the presidential pulpit to vomit up a revolting genocide “joke.” If only he were this dedicated to, say, learning how tariffs actually work.

And Spawn of Shart decided to jump on the white supremacist dogpile, adding his own despicable follow-up “gag.” Oh, that Trump family. They're like a shitty KKK improv troupe.

Amusingly, the handful of spineless sycophants who have so foolishly yoked their reputations to the rapidly-sinking Shartanic have fallen back on the “oh, the President is WAY too dumb to make a Trail of Tears reference” defense. The idea that a doddering twit who couldn't pass a sixth grade history test is somehow qualified to hold nuclear disarmament talks with North Korea seems suspect to me, but maybe Brit Hume can walk us through it.

Anyway, E-War responded to the hateful taunts by reminding Little Donnie Dotard that the way things are going, he probably won't even be on the ticket in 2020, on account of being all impeached and imprisoned and what have you. “Shit, old man, I might be running against Nancy Pelosi before this is over.”

And Minnesota Senator Amy Klobuchar announced her own Presidential run in a blinding snowstorm, first by killing a yeti with her bare hands and then delivering a speech from a lectern carved from its skeleton. The mere act of Speaking While Outdoors drew a sharp contrast to the current, infinitely wussier, President, who famously recoiled in terror when faced with a light French drizzle.*

The Marmalade Shartcannon took Klobuchar's speech as an opportunity to show off his scientific chops, tweeting out a shot at climate science, because here was a person (a female person no less) talking about so-called global warming...while it was cold outside! I think Mr. Trump has us here, friends. After all, the overwhelming consensus of the 97% of scientists who say climate change is real is that it will never ever ever ever ever snow again, anywhere, not even once. CHECKMATE LIBTARDS!

We're told Il Douche does all his own make-up, which must be rather time-consuming, considering his tiny, inadequate hands. Anyway, that a man this vain would seek to perpetuate a process that leaves his face looking like rhino's butthole after it sat on a crate of apricot jelly beans really should've been taken as a warning sign, competence-wise.

We also learned that under the Treasonweasel Administration, EPA inspections have fallen dramatically, presumably because everybody's taking turns looking up porn in Scott Pruitt's old soundproof wank booth. What's that? Oh, you think the Environmental Protection Agency should "protect the environment?" Well, that's just what a cuck would say, isn't it? ISN'T IT?

With all the current discussion on various manifestation of bigotry, past and present, let's not neglect the tale of West Virginia State Delegate/Swollen Hate Tick Eric Porterfield, who suggested on Saturday that if a child of his came out as gay, he would drown them in a lake. That slovenly old fuck thought this was HILARIOUS, for the record. Anyhow, while Porterfield likes to sling slurs around and whine that the LGBTQ community is just like the Klan, I think I'll pass on the moral lectures from the dude who makes jokes about murdering his own kids.

So, some pop singer I've never heard of showed up to the Grammys cosplaying as Hairplug Himmler's Big Dumb Wall, desecrating Pink Floyd on top of her general shittiness. Whatever. Still, as the majority of right-wing punditry these days has descended into mere lib-owning trolling (see Shapiro, Ben), expect his lady to have a column in the Federalist by Thursday.

Tangerine Idi Amin seems to be mega-triggered by all the stories about how his lazy ass hardly ever works because he's always golfing or screeching at the talking television box. Fortunately, he has plenty of free time to post whiny tweets about how hard he allegedly works. The right likes to gripe about “virtue signaling,” so I've decided to label this behavior “labor signaling.”

So I guess the company that runs the National Enquirer/thought blackmailing the richest man alive was a good idea consulted the Justice Department about the need to officially register as a Saudi agent for publishing a simperingly worshipful magazine profile of journalist-dismembering thug Mohammed bin Salman. This combination of corporate spycraft and raw sleaze makes me wish Shakespeare was around to write a play or three about it.

Meanwhile, Shart Garfunkel travelled to El Paso to regurgitate a few old lies in his hilariously futile quest for wall funding. Near as I can figure, the argument is supposed to something like “El Paso was a hellhole where the average American was the victim of 3 to 5 violent crimes per day, until a Big Dumb Wall got built, eliminating all illegality overnight, in addition to dispensing soft-serve ice cream to the community's children, free of charge.”

Anyway, Beto's back home to deliver a retort and lead an anti-wall march and probably give an impromptu punk concert where he sings a new song about the need for compassionate immigration reform that sounds like a Bad Brains b-side and then he says “fuck” again and everybody swoons.

I guess a handful of Cult45's frothier loons gathered to form a “human wall” on the border, in support of their Turd Emperor's proposed monument to hate. Look, if we can get these clods to really commit to this, and keep their human chain together, miles from decent society, I think we've found a compromise that works for everybody.

And Democratic governors in both California and New Mexico have pulled National Guard troops back from the border, citing the imaginary nature of the President's “crisis” in doing so. One of the reasons I'm increasingly pleased with my membership in the Democratic Party is that objective reality is a partisan issue now, and I feel we're on the right side of it.

In the background, a deal has been reached on border security, potentially averting another shutdown. Will President Ann Coulter sink the compromise because it it contains nary a penny for wall funding? Will Stephen Miller object because it causes inadequate human suffering? Tune in next time, same Shower time, same Shower channel...

So yeah...all in all, kind of a slow weekend for news. But I'm going out tomorrow night, so I wanted to get a post up for all you lovely people. Oh by the way, can I borrow the car? And maybe hit you up for gas beer money?

*I assume “a light French drizzle” is also the name for some sort of sex act, but that's not what I'm referencing here.

There are apparently no white dudes anywhere in Virginia that didn't spend half of the 1980s in blackface. I guess it's just something you put on before you left the house, with your Keds and your slap bracelets. Lt. Governor Justin Fairfax is probably immune to the blackface problem, but it doesn't look like he'll be around much longer. I have no idea how the fuck we're going to find anybody to govern that state. The line of succession is down to pizza delivery drivers at this point.

The top American general in Syria says the Valor Thief in Chief didn't bother consulting him before making the reckless decision to suddenly withdraw troops from the region, he just came home one day, and Eric Trump was out in the yard, wearing a plastic soldier helmet, telling everybody to pack up and go home.

Still, Assad is surely happy to see us go, and so is his favorite Congressflunky, Tulsi Gabbard, who told the Morning Joe crew she still has posters from Bashar's Tiger Beat photo shoot all over her bedroom. I confess it's sort of confusing to me that Tulsi looks at her record and her beliefs and thinks, “Democrats will vote for me.” I just can't figure out the thought process. It's like setting out to make an apple pie, going to the grocery store, and coming back with a can of cashews, a tire, some cat litter, and a volleyball, and hoping for the best.

Well, because he finally finished his peas and cleaned all the hooker pee out of his bedsheets, Nancy Pelosi finally let the Kompromat Kid have his State of the Union speech. I could, I suppose, nitpick my way through each exaggeration and outright lie, but you must have noticed by now…nobody's really talking about the content of the speech, about any proposed policies or applause lines. We're talking about that kid who fell asleep and that picture of Pelosi clapping.

He's the Dotard Who Cried Wall, and he repeats himself so much he's not even interesting anymore. He’s lost the power to drive the national conversation. If he gets any weaker, he'll need Mick Mulvaney to cut up his overcooked steaks for him.

Still, I suppose some highlights are called for:

Lacking in actual accomplishments to tout, he demanded he be given credit for stopping the war with North Korea that exists exclusively inside his pea-sized reptilian brain, and the United States Congress LAUGHED DIRECTLY IN HIS FACE.

He whined that national peace and prosperity would be threatened if the new Congress insisted on investigating his numerous crimes, as pathetic a “I have nothing to hide and don't you dare look in my closet” moment as you could hope to conjure.

And while I don't generally let that rancid shitmaggot get under my skin, I have to confess one moment stuck in my craw; Hairplug Himmler had the fucking gall to trot out a survivor of the Tree of Life massacre in the very same speech where he repeated the very same phony, hateful, conspiracy theories about caravans and refugees that MOTIVATED THE FUCKING TREE OF LIFE SHOOTER. I'd say, “have you no decency, sir?” But that's a stupid question, isn't it?

Anyway, Stacey Abrams strolled in and blew the old fart out of the water without breaking a sweat. Her rebuttal was the sort of speech that makes you proud to be a Democrat, and the juxtaposition between her hope, clarity, and resolve and Wee Don's sullen, dishonest, hate-mongering couldn't have been any starker.

Meanwhile, Howard Schultz, even in the face of relentless opposition, continues his tireless crusade for the great civil rights issue of our time; the Periodic Criticism of Billionaires. Howard finds the very term “billionaire” to be practically a slur, you see, and would rather folks use phrases like “person of means” or "Pathetically Out-of-Touch-American." Anyway, he should probably start measuring the Oval Office drapes.

Extra congrats go out to the Sublime Mr. Schultz for arriving at the defeated, depressing, Jeb(!)ian “please clap” moment in less than two weeks. Most candidates at least get out of the parking lot before running out of gas, but you're something special, Howard.

The Bonespur Buttplug’s bullheaded pursuit of the Big Dumb Wall Nobody Wants has encountered a new foe: butterflies. Yeah, they're trying to bulldoze a butterfly sanctuary to throw up some of that sweet sweet border barrier. That's a little on-the-nose, Disney-villain-wise, don'tcha think? Butterflies? What next, are we gonna walk in on Stephen Miller casually dismembering Care Bears?

Well, even as they worked to annihilate universally-beloved natural beauty, the Shart Administration got back to their populist roots, shredding Obama-era regulations on payday lenders. Surely now that the scummiest grifters preying upon the nation's working poor are newly empowered to bleed their victims dry, American greatness has finally been restored as promised.

Shithead hired yet another Fux Nooz host to work in the federal government, and at the risk of stoking controversy, future Presidents probably shouldn't dole out important posts to the people they like on the magical teevee box. Heaven help us, at least he watches news…the next Trump may well be a sitcom junkie…imagine Kelsey Grammer explaining he's only an actor right up until the moment Frasier Crane gets sworn in as HHS Secretary.

GALAXY BRAIN: Maybe the solution to our problems is to do the vetting over at News Corp! Before they ever get tapped for government service! God, that's brilliant! Screen out the Whitakers and the Gorkas BEFORE THEY SHOW UP ON TELEVISION! You can mail me my Nobel Prize.

Okay, make sure you're sitting down, because this next story is AMAZING. Gather ‘round, children, as I tell ye the Tale of Cindy McCain: White Savior.

Yes, Cindy was at the airport, and in the White Republicanest Thing That Has Ever Happened, she looked at a random woman and her child, decided their skin tones didn't match quite to her liking, and CALLED THE COPS ON THEM TO ACCUSE THE MOM OF TRAFFICKING HER CHILD. Just for a little Smug Superiority garnish on this Racist Horror Salad, she went on a radio show to brag about her heroism, only to have Phoenix police call her out on her misguided meddling.

HOLY FUCKBALLS Cindy, you have taken white privilege to a heretofore unknown extreme. Surely you will transcend mere human whiteness, and evolve to a higher plane of being, perhaps as the background of an Ice Age cartoon. Congratulations on thrusting a potentially life-threatening law enforcement encounter on total strangers because you were stupid and bored. Please build a catapult and launch yourself into the sun before your idle self-righteousness gets somebody killed.

Moving over to some good news for a change, the government's open, the committee assignments have been handed out, and the Oversight Renaissance has begun to flourish in earnest!

We had a hearing on gun violence, for the first time since 2011! It was going great until Bipedal Colon Fungus Matt Gaetz figured it was an appropriate setting to get into a fight with a couple of Parkland parents.

Gaetz is such a magnificent little Trump stooge; stupid, spiteful, and as obsequious as an Igor stand-in from a Looney Tunes short. You sort of imagine him calling the President up in the middle night, going, “My wife said the dishwasher broke and we needed a new one, but I told her the REAL solution was to BUILD THE WALL! Aren't I a good boy, SAY I'M A GOOD BOY MR. TRUMP.”

Meanwhile, Steve Mnuchin is “negotiating” with Maxine Waters regarding testimony before the House Financial Services Committee, which she chairs*. I'd be careful, little fellah. Maxine'll march you right down Pennsylvania Avenue by the ear if she has to. Maybe even if she doesn't.

A certain Tangelo-Tinted Taint Tumor is not taking all this new-fangled accountability well, and he's responding by doing what he does best: whining like five-year-old on Twitter. I think he really believes “presidential harassment” is an actual crime, or at the very least he’s upset he didn't make it one before he lost the House.

But Adam Schiff keeps right on wielding that House Intelligence Committee gavel like Mjolnir, and it is so sweet to watch. First order of business? Sending a fat stack of transcripts over to Bob Mueller's office with all the various instances of perjury helpfully color-coded for prosecutorial ease n’ comfort.

Adam's burrowed ten miles under Dorito Mussolini's skin, staffing up with all kinds of new talent, including folks with National Security Council experience, which has Little Donnie Two-Scoops jumping at shadows, fearing that Schiff is poaching talent from the White House itself! Don't worry, Shart-Shart…I'm sure the Secret Service agents you charge to pee while they risk their lives for you are perfectly loyal.

There's even an investigation into potential ratfuckery by the National Rifle Association! Why, Grundle-Munching Death Merchant Wayne LaPierre himself has been ordered to produce documents for the congressional probe , though he has requested extra time to wipe the blood of countless innocent children from his files, if only to make them more legible.

Perhaps jealous of the all the Hawt XXX Oversight Action going down in the House, the Department of Justice announced a new investigation of their own, trying to figure out precisely why Alex Acosta doled out a punishment to serial child molester Jeffrey Epstein that amounted to telling him he was a very naughty boy and sending him on him to bed with supper, only no dessert. Acosta, for those who no can no longer decipher their scorecard in the middle of this unceasing shitstorm, is the current serving Secretary of Labor, which I imagine fills his hours with interesting tasks and challenges as he awaits eternal damnation.

We learned Precocious Paul Manafort kept on fuckin’ around in Ukraine and lying and whatnot even after he got indicted, because…I don't even know, because he thinks the law is something his parents made up, like Santa Clause and the Tooth Fairy? We're gonna find out Paul was doing crimes on his phone at the literal moment the judge was sentencing him. What is life like at the Manafort house? “Honey did you finish folding the laundry or were you doing crimes all night?” "Um…crimes. Sorry.”

I have to take a moment here to confess that my mind is still totally fucking blown by the Cindy McCain thing. How utterly jacked on wine coolers and self-regard do you have to be to look at a mixed-race family and, without a split-second's self-examination, decide it's time to live out your Underground Railroad fantasy? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, CINDY?

So, I guess David Pecker and the National Enquirer tried to blackmail Jeff Bezos (who you may recognize as the richest human being in all history) with dick pics, but then Bezos whipped out his actual dick, which is Lots of Fucking Money and All the Power that Comes With It, and slapped the Enquirer across the face with it several times.

I think Mr. Pecker should consider giving L.A. Confidential a quick watch, if only the Danny DeVito scenes. The moral of the story is NEVER FUCK WITH A DUDE WHOSE ACTUAL DICK IS ALL THE MONEY IN THE WORLD. (It's probably not super healthy for us to be cheering for a billionaire, but hey, the enemy of my enemy, right?)

Anyway, there isn't going to be a National Enquirer in 2020, which, because we live in Hell, actually deals a fairly consequential blow to the re-election prospects of the current President of the United States.

We learned that murdering Jamal Khashoggi was actually a long-standing fantasy for Saudi Prince Mohammed bin Salman, and U.S. intelligence had intercepted a conversation where he discussed it. Mike Fucking Pompeo was probably hand-feeding him grapes and cutting the crusts off his sandwiches at the time. In an administration that debases America daily, few things bring greater shame on us than watching our Secretary of State scrape and bow to this pettiest of thugs.

I tell you what, I bet a lot of folks in Shartopia are sweatin’ bullets now that the feds are investigating the (hilariously-under-attended) inaugural. Near as I can tell, every influence-hungry shitbag on Earth pulled up to the sewer with a dump truck full of cash, and told the various rats and slugs to divvy it up among themselves however they saw fit. But now the subpoenas are flyin', the fingers are pointin', and the Shower Cap is laughin’ his goddamn ass off.

And some SCOTUS rulings came down, including a truly despicable Silly Muslim, Religious Liberty Isn't Guaranteed for YOU decision that makes you hope nobody asks Neil Gorsuch to give the Fugitive Slave Law another look.

Brett Kavanaugh enjoyed a devious little snicker at Susan Collins’ expense, chuckling, "I told you I think women are people and you totally believed me! Timmy and Squi are never gonna believe this!” and then, given the opportunity to rule on abortion rights for the very first time, he could scarcely contain his desire to start passing out Handmaid costumes and chastity belts. Who could have seen this coming except anyone and everyone?

I never get sick of stories about the Drumpf Cabal using donor money to pay their legal fees. This time it's young Jar-Jar dipping his hand into the cookie jar, to the tune of 100,000 cookies. Y'know, I want to feel sorry for the people who send this smirking grifter their hard-earned money, begging him to make America great again, while he attacks their livelihoods with shutdowns and tariffs and shameless upwards redistribution of wealth, I really do. But then I remember the child concentration camps, and I say, “Fuck it. Take ‘em for every penny, you Vampire Scrotal Growth. Mueller'll get it all back in the end.”

David Farenthold reveals that the REAL caravan is the one transporting a steady stream of undocumented immigrants to work at Sharty McFly’s tacky-ass New Jersey golf resort! Given this shocking new information, the “build a wall"-chanting fanatics of MAGA nation, forced to confront their Turd Emperor's hypocrisy, abandoned him en masse, and JUST KIDDING they all still think Q is about to have Obama and Rosie O'Donnell burned at the stake for sex crimes.

I see Candace Owens took a break from assuring large crowds of white people that her “Blexit” movement is going to catch on any minute now to…praise Hitler. Folks, I don't think it's really my place to dole out advice, as I am a drunken buffoon in a bathrobe and mask, but if, at this late date, this is still unclear to you…NEVER PRAISE HITLER. No, not even if you happen to admire his taste in table settings.

Matt Whitaker appeared before the House Judiciary Committee to raise awareness of the dangerous buffoon that has been running the Department of Justice since Jeff Sessions got fired. Watching him dodging and stalling was like watching…like, have you ever seen a world-class acrobat, completely in the zone, or an Olympic-level slalom skier, weaving around with poetic grace? It was the opposite of that. That boy is DUMB. I wouldn't make him Acting Shift Manager at Pizza Hut While I Step Out for a Smoke.

Now, at this point, you probably think you've taken some bad acid and fallen into a Yes album cover, but I haven't even gotten to the weird shit yet. You want weird shit? I mean, legit weird-ass shit? How about some Jerome Corsi suing Roger Stone shit? How about Corsi-claiming-Stone-is-trying-to-give-him-a-stroke-so-he-can't-testify-level shit! PEYOTE AND TIDE PODS ALL AROUND, MOTHERFUCKERS!

Has the news reduced to a gibbering mess, tarred with madness and feathered with despair? Let me snap the last thread of your sanity and push you over the ledge into the void once and for all: a politician in Florida resigned this week because she was LICKING DUDES’ FACES. We have arrived at the FACE-LICKING portion of the program, people. Please secure your own oxygen mask before attending to any children, because this is real life and there's no way off.

Shit, y’all. If you haven't started drinking yet, get to fuckin’ work. We still have to drink to the mighty John Dingell, and I expect that'll take all weekend.

Wow, what a weekend, right? We had a big fancy football game, and kicked off a new nuclear arms race! Maroon 5 was there, which I’m pretty sure was mentioned somewhere in the Book of Revelation. Anyhow, read my blog before the world ends, is what I'm saying.

I hate to see friendships fall apart, y'know? Matt Bevin and Kim Davis used to be such good friends, back in those halcyon days of weaponizing the power of the state to dehumanize American citizens, and deny them their basic rights. But money changes everything, and now that the $225,000 bill for her vicious little attempt at theocracy has come due, a rift has opened. How very sad. I may weep.

The Failing New York Times reports that Deutsche Bank turned down the Grand Wizard Grifter's request for a loan during the 2016 campaign. Now, DB was the last financial institution on Earth willing to loan that crooked old fuck any money, so isn't it neat to find out we elected a President who was one bad day away from desperately trying to pawn a fake Time Magazine cover for cash?

Republicans across the nation are expressing gratitude to Virginia Governor-for-now Ralph Northam, relieved that someone else is in trouble for being racist/extremely stupid for a change. You have to admit, “I'm not the guy in blackface in this photograph though I initially thought I might be because of this other time I was a guy in blackface anyway I'm not resigning” was a truly legendary moment in failed damage control. My only regret is that Northam's wife stopped him from moonwalking right in the middle of that mega-cringe press conference, because you could see in his eyes that the opportunity to show off his moves would've really brightened his otherwise-trying day.

As I write this, Governor Michael Jackson Costume is still clinging on, like the ring around the tub in that house you rented in college. Ralph, do us all a favor, and moonwalk your sorry ass right out of the governor's mansion, and our lives, forever.

Let's not move on without sparing a hearty Go Fuck Yourself to every Republican hopping on the “Shame on your racism, Ralph Northam, you must resign” train. Virginia GOP, after Ed Gillespie's repugnant campaign, you went even further and ran neo-Confederate Corey Stewart, who sits in a department store Santa's lap every year and asks for a slave, against Tim Kaine. Take all the seats.

Ted Cruz, who made Steve “Some of my best friends are Austria Nazis” King his national campaign co-chair in 2016, thinks he has the moral authority to weigh in? That opinion is shittier than your beard, son, and that is one shitty, shitty, beard you've got.

So, President Used Enema Water has his annual physical coming up, and he's frantically trying to bring disgraced “doctor” Ronny Jackson back to lie about his weight again, because that's the sort of thing your Commander-in-Chief thinks about instead of learning how tariffs work. The lesson here is that you too can be promoted to the highest levels of American government, even if you drink on the job and dispense medication so haphazardly as to earn the nickname “Candyman,” if you're just willing to indulge a vain old man's fantasy that yes, that overlong necktie really is quite slimming, sir.

Time Magazine reports that the Marmalade Shartcannon's national security briefers are concerned that he's endangering national security because he doesn’t listen to the American intelligence community, cuz they're boring and frequently contradict the talkin’ faces from the magic teevee box. I don't want to seem alarmist, but “President undermines national security” feels like it ought to be a bigger story, don'tcha think?

Last November, the good people of Utah voted to expand Medicaid under the ACA, but Republicans in the state legislature said “Instead of what you clearly told us you wanted, how about we do something more expensive and less effective?” It's Paul LePage in Maine all over again. The American people are all, “Hey, we really want health care, cuz it turns out being alive is pretty great and we want more of it,” and Republicans go, “Look, you filthy takers, count yourselves lucky we don't just chop y’all up for mulch for the fields around Ann Romney's dressage horse stables, 'kay?”

So, some disgruntled Shart House staffer leaked several weeks’ worth of Hairplug Himmler's daily schedules, showing he spends a third of his time watching television with his thumb up his ass, another third working with Mick Mulvaney to extract said thumb from said ass, and perhaps an odd moment here and there grudgingly tending to his duties as President of the United States.

It's absolutely hilarious that these assclowns imagine that anybody believes La Grande Merde uses these massive blocks of “executive time” to access his Super Special Secret Donnie Prezidenting Powers. We can literally line up his tweets directly with whatever the blithering morons on Fux n’ Fiendz happen to be blathering about, we've been doing it for months. “Executive time” my ass; he's sitting on the shitter googling “how do umbrellas work?”

Hey, speaking of taxpayer money getting pissed down the drain in the form of Trump spokesjags trying to gaslight us over the stupidest imaginable shit, an anonymous official told NYT that Littlefinger's creepy, obviously unnatural, spray tan is really the result of “good genes.” Dude, no. There is no “My face looks like a fossilized scrotum that got trapped on the Planters Cheez Balls assembly line” gene. That is not a thing. Shut the fuck up.

So Tangerine Idi Amin got an interview broadcast during the Super Bowl and of course he lied a lot and said a bunch of dumb shit and claimed Nancy Pelosi eats puppies and flosses afterwards with their adorable little puppy tendons, but did you notice something? Nobody really paid attention. Nobody's talking about what he said. “Oh, is the doddering old twit bellowing about his wall again? Somebody give him a glass of warm milk and send him to bed.” It's all just white noise now.

The only thing we ARE discussing from that sloppy tirade? Donnie Dotard's comments on how he wouldn't want his son playing football because it's too dangerous, and you're like holy shit, he's actually RIGHT about something for a change, oh well even a stopped clock is right twice a day. Only that means he's only going to be right about ONE MORE THING the whole rest of his Presidency, and why couldn't it have been about something like NATO or trade instead of severe head trauma?

Who wants a heapin’ helpin’ of the BANALITY OF EVIL, because we just brought a fresh tub of it out to the buffet! Yes, the Turdmaggot Administration, fighting a lawsuit demanding that they reunite the families they separated in what I'll remind you was an act of state-sponsored terrorism, whines that they don't WANNA because it would be too hard. "We have done this evil thing, yes, but setting it right would require effort, and thus we would prefer not to, sorry about the trauma except not really.” It's like a little kid whining about cleaning his room, only with atrocity instead of dirty socks and Legos.

Democrats in the Senate are preparing a bill that would prevent Shartolo Colon from repurposing disaster relief funds for his Big Dumb Wall, because apparently we need legislation to keep our President from stealing money from hurricane victims to finance personal vanity projects now. America is so great again, you guys.

The real wall, of course, is the one the Sunny D-Bag keeps beating his head against in demanding money for his wall. Unsatisfied with his cratering approval numbers, or the public's repeated, loud, rejection, he’s sending troops to the border again, because that worked out so fucking well last time. The next President should have a short term memory, I think, as well as the equivalent capacity for learning of a laboratory rat. Call me a radical, that's how I see it.

And the Velveeta Vulgarian officially nominated shady-ass lobbyist David Bernhardt to take over the Interior Department after Ryan Zinke looted it of everything down to the sugar cubes in the break room. While Bernhardt is precisely the sort of unscrupulous swamp monster we've come to expect from Fat Q*Bert's cabinet appointments, I regret to inform you that he does not, at this time, appear to be funny, and thus this segment will be presented without jokes.

Looks like Rinat Akhmetshin, a Russian lobbyist who attended Son of Shart's famous Please Daddy Can I Commit Some Treason Trump Tower meeting, received a suspicious, mysterious, half-million-dollar infusion around the time of said meeting. Anyway, since we know there was NO COLLUSION (I ask you, would the President lie?), you have to admit these coincidences are getting wackier and wackier. Sid Caesar's gonna pop up any minute now.

President Crotchrot's legal troubles keep mounting, as federal prosecutors subpoenaed his inaugural committee for...well, it looks like basically everything. Anyway, you should play a game tonight, where you sit around with your friends and try to list all the various investigations and lawsuits this cheap crook and his cheap crook associates are facing. I confess I've lost track. I think Mueller is going to lose track when he presents his results. “Sorry your honor, I get my money-laundering oligarchs mixed up sometimes.”

With the rescheduled-due-to-the-President's-cucking-at-the-hands-of-Speaker-Pelosi State of the Union speech just around the corner, I hope you'll spare a thought for the poor, downtrodden, fact-checkers of the world. Between six and ten fact-checkers die of exhaustion during every major Trump speech, and the State of the Union is particularly grueling. Leave a bowl of water out on your back porch for any fact-checkers who may live in your neighborhood.

And remember, there is no SotU drinking game that won't kill you should you faithfully adhere to the rules. Be careful out there, Shower Captives...

Trapped inside due to the bitter cold, with nothing but the news to pass the time, I assure you I have gone quite mad. It's like The Shining, only much more racist. Let's plow through it, so we can all get to the weekend...

So, this week, the President of the United States attacked his own intelligence agency chiefs for accurately assessing the threats facing the nation, in contrast to the baseless lies he pulls out of his ass for the sake of what he perceives to be political advantage. That is a thing that happened, here in the real world. He's mad at the intelligence community for prioritizing national defense over backing him up on his bullshit.

We focus a lot on the incompetence and awfulness of this regime, but I think we should take time to appreciate the miracle that this dolt hasn't gotten us all killed yet. I'm certainly grateful. As a great man once said, “enjoy every sandwich.”

Anyway, in the latest installment of Orwell For Absolute Fucking Morons, Dorito Mussolini insists the chiefs were “totally misquoted and totally taken out of context” in their (checks notes) public testimony that was broadcast on national television. It's like he doesn't even care enough to work at the gaslighting anymore. The spark is gone, is all I'm sayin’. I want a divorce.

Hey, I have a new favorite Republican! Yeah, Congressman Mark Walker introduced the BLAKE Act, named for everybody's least favorite pervy pajama-clad prick, aiming to make it illegal to lobby Congress if you happen to have any outstanding taxpayer-funded sexual-harassment payoff debts. That's some top-notch legislative trolling, Mr. Walker. I salute you.

So, when I started seeing the story circulating, about how Weehands McNodick had a previously undisclosed meeting with Daddy Vlad Putin at the G-20, with no American note-taker or translator present, I wondered why this old news was making the rounds again. No, Cap, this is a DIFFERENT Putin meeting without an American note-taker or translator. A whole new one. We need to work out some sort of system to differentiate these note-taker-and-translator-less meetings, because this shit is getting confusing. Anyway, NO COLLUSION, clearly.

Susan Collins went on teevee to hem and haw about whether or not she'd endorse Baron Golfin von Fatfuk in 2020 and do you have any idea how hard it is to write about Susan Collins and her incessant, theatrical, dithering without invoking Lucy and the football? It's totally accurate, it's right fucking there, but you used it last time, and the time before that, and the time before that, and so did everyone else, because that's the whole gag with Lucy and football, ISN'T IT?

Sarah Slanders says she thinks God wanted her lazy, stupid, hateful, thieving, lying, pussy-grabbing boss to become President. God. GOD. Of course, growing up in the Huckabee household, “God” is a humor-butchering, dog-murdering, child-molester-enabling, deity, so this kinda makes sense.

There's actually been quite a lot of religious delusion in Shartopia lately, with Steve Bannon claiming he was “doing the Lord's work” in serving his Turd Emperor. Presumably the Lord was primarily interested in getting rid of all the gin.

Great Caesar's Ghost, it was fuckin’ COLD this week, wasn't it? It was so fuckin’ cold, at least 21 people died, but Kentucky Governor Matt Bevin is so eager to lose his reelection campaign this November that he called his state's schoolchildren whiny little sissies for taking a day off to avoid the life-threatening conditions. Bevin briefly explored the idea of going door to door to call each individual child in Kentucky “cuck” to their face, but he quickly discovered that it was in fact really fuckin' cold outside.

In addition, the polar vortex presented Republicans with an irresistible opportunity to demonstrate their proud ignorance of all things scientific, creating some spectacularly amusing self-owns in their quest to use the weather to dunk on clean energy. My gift to you tonight is the glorious smugness on Jesse Watters’ face as he trumpets his belief that solar panels absorb heat rather than light. Also, Tucker Carlson seems to believe that coldness somehow destroys wind, some sort of supernatural meteorological version of rock-paper-scissors, maybe?

Ultimately the greatest renewable resource in America is the idiocy of the conservative movement, and we need to find some way to harness that shit.

Hey look, measles is back. Measles. Here we sit, comfortably atop the food chain, confident in our superiority as we put a game show host in charge of our nuclear arsenal and un-eradicate diseases. If I were an eager, young, up-and-coming, species looking to leap up the evolutionary ladder, this is when I'd make my move.

The Howard Schultz campaign is going remarkably well, assuming that Schultz is running for President of Getting Dragged. Oddly, the slogan Yes We Can (Keep Howard Schultz's Taxes Low) has failed to go viral, and if this doddering old nitwit sticks around, I honestly may need a whole second blog to chronicle the turds that roll out of his mouth.

Tangerine Idi Amin's “spiritual advisor,” Paula White, says God will beat you up unless you send Paula White your entire salary from January. I'm not personally inclined to believe this, but I want you to have the information you need to make this decision for yourself. If Paula's God is also the Huckabee family's God, there could be real consequences here. Anyway, if you don't buy me a beer, God's gonna rip your dick off and feed it to the pigs.

Lindsey Graham has wasted no time in throwing the full force of his new position as Senate Judiciary Committee Chairman behind efforts to address the greatest injustice in the American legal system today: the oppression of Roger Stone. Lindsey wants answers, dammit! WHY was Stone arrested JUST because he seems to have broken several laws? WHY did the FBI come to his house to arrest him, rather than simply sending a respectful invitation, on scented stationary, perhaps accompanied by a mint or a truffle? WHY is his pointy little head so pointy?

Anyway, Roger is potentially facing a gag order from the judge in his case, which, for a such a loudmouth doofus, may well constitute cruel and unusual punishment. By the way, my current plan is to go back to school to obtain a journalism degree so I can land a prison interview with this sanctimonious ratfucker where I don't ask any questions, I just chuckle and eat a streak and maybe some key lime pie right in front of him.

Well, Virginia Governor Ralph Northam has come out for legalizing abortion a full five years after a child's birth, ideally in some sort of satanic ritual sacrifice scenario, to hear Republicans tell it. Anyway, before I could finish this paragraph, Ralphie landed in much deeper trouble, thanks to the worst yearbook scandal this side of Roy Moore. Now I'm just waiting to see if he resigns before I get this post up tonight. (So far, nope.)

Now that the government is open and the President has started sleeping in his new quarters in the doghouse in Nancy Pelosi's backyard, House Democrats got to work on their first major bill, a pretty-dang-awesome package of pro-Democracy, anti-corruption goodness. Republicans are...not taking it well. “No fair!” whinged Jim Jordan, “If you let people vote we'll be held accountable for all the shitty things we do! Just because we have massively unpopular ideas and proposals doesn't mean we shouldn't have the power to enact them!”

Mitch McConnell is particularly incensed at the idea of making Election Day a national holiday, calling it a “power grab.” Yes, Wrinkly Gamera, that is the whole point. It IS a power grab. We're looking to seize power away from the Kochs and the Mercers and the Adelsons and all your other supervisors, and put it back in the hands of the American people. To some, this is called “Democracy.”

Somehow, the Dopey Dotard with Diminutive Digits, despite suffering the two biggest defeats of his political career (that's the midterms and the shutdown, for those of you keeping score at home) thanks to his bonehead pursuit of the Big Dumb Wall, keeps right on mindlessly regurgitating the same old arguments that have failed him so many times already. Like, you know how in Jurassic Park, the raptors never strike the same part of the electric fence twice? Donnie is the raptor who gets shocked, then puts the wire in his mouth. Then, when he wakes up an hour later, charred and still smoking, he puts the wire up his ass.

Because they are geniuses, Hairpiece Himmler and his party have been spreading news of a massive Fentanyl bust at the border as evidence that the wall is in fact not dumb. Yes, the bust that was made at a legal entry point, right where everybody says the drugs are coming in, using existing, non-wall, methods. Nothing says “drastic new measures are necessary” quite like the current system working perfectly.

And of course Fat Q*Bert still thinks he can get around Congress by declaring a state of emergency. He just needs Mitch to tell him how long the legislative process will take to play out, so he can pencil the emergency into his day-planner.

Bad news, everybody! The entire Mueller investigation has been revealed as a fraudulent witch hunt, because the previously unknown recipient of a call Turdmaggot, Jr. made to blocked numbers around the time of his famous Wanna Buy Some Treason meeting turned out to be not his dirtbag father, but rather his dirtbag father's Russia-connected chum. No, it doesn't make any sense to me either, but Spawn of Shart is taking a victory lap like he won the Super Bowl and five Oscars in the same night.

Speaking of the Bobadook, now he's telling us that th'Russians weaponized material obtained in the discovery process in a disinformation campaign designed to undermine the investigation into Russian interference in the 2016 election. I don't want to seem partisan, but in light of these ongoing attacks from a hostile foreign power, it would be a nice thing if the President could maybe side with the United States in this conflict. For a change.

A whistleblower, who let America know that Jared Kushner has no fucking business with a high-level security clearance on account of his shadiness, has been suspended without pay. No consequences for Jar-Jar, of course, who will continue to pore through the nation's classified intelligence for whatever tidbits he can sell to his journalist-dismembering buddy, MBS.

In an act of rat-bastardry so extreme you could only call it “Trumpian,” the Department of Energy threw the state of Nevada a surprise party, only it wasn't a stripper that popped out of the cake, but half a ton of radioactive waste! Rick Perry would rather ask for forgiveness than permission, it turns out. Or fuck forgiveness, enjoy your plutonium, and no, there's no return address on the box.

Mike Pompeo, as part of his ongoing effort to make American improbably nostalgic for a blundering goon like Rex Tillerson, announced that the Shart Administration is pulling out of a nuclear arms treaty with Russia, presumably because nobody thinks Dr. Strangelove* is scary anymore. First Donald Trump, now a nuclear arms race? Why are we bringing back all the shittiest parts of the 1980's? What's next? A prime time Manimal reboot?

You may have believed that the Presidential Medal of Freedom was reserved for the most accomplished among us, a truly priceless honor. NOPE. Turns out, you can get one for the low low price of 500 grand, provided it's appropriately laundered through a legal defense fund for the crooked associates of a suitably corrupt-n'-criminal President. I get it if this makes you spontaneously burst out singing “God Bless the USA,” but please respect your neighbors.

In the midst of all the fuckery and madness, it's always healthy to find reasons to laugh. In that spirit, I'll leave you with a bit of news that broke during the drafting of this post. It's Howard Schultz's first set of approval numbers. WARNING: set down your beverage before clicking.

Well, the government is all nice and reopened, and it looks like smooth sailing from here on out! Why, I bet everything calms down now, and we can go right back to the good ol’ days, when things were so normal and quiet, you didn't even pay attention to the news most of time. Or maybe we're are still locked in the funhouse with a bunch of Klansmen jacked up on bath salts and hate speech. Let's find out...

Well, the government is merrily humming along exactly the way it's supposed to, with Border Patrol agents frantically searching for any shred of evidence, however flimsy, to back up President Crotchrot's creepy, racist, entirely fabricated, BDSM fantasy about human traffickers gagging women with tape at the southern border. I guess we should count ourselves lucky that the doddering old twit's lies stay basically within the realm of realism; if he ever suddenly proclaimed that griffins are real, you'd have Betsy DeVos ordering her staff to break into zoos to staple wings to the lions.

So, during the shutdown, the Tangelo-Tinted Taint Tumor apparently had a flock of ultra-super-mega-far-right maniacs, including Ginni Thomas, Frank Gaffney and other similarly batpoo-encrusted loons, over to the White House for a pleasant little rant about gay/transgender rights and how there are way too many of them, and even to rail against women serving in the military. He won't listen to generals or scientists or our oldest, most trusted, allies, but the Cuckoo Klux Klan gets an audience. Cool.

So a bunch of journalists got laid off last week, and President Gas Station Urinal Cake celebrated the news like it was his birthday and Mick Mulvaney had just ordered a whole platoon of piss hookers for residence. Cheerleading for unemployment from the Oval Office...I miss having a President who actually liked the American people, y'know?

Good news, everyone! We're saved! Howard Schultz, with an eagle-eyed reading of the public will, understands that what we're really looking for in these tumultuous times is a self-righteous billionaire with all the charisma of melba toast, proposing drastic cuts to entitlement programs, because we all secretly want to retire in poverty and die of treatable diseases.

You may think Schultz doesn't have much of a constituency, but if you ever worked for Starbucks for even a day, I suggest you check the fine print on your contract...that's right, you may've enjoyed health insurance coverage for part time work in your 20's, but now you've been drafted into Howard's army, motherfucker! Rest up, we're marching on the capitol at dawn! Hope you saved that free weekly bag of coffee, because that's your whole field ration, son.

Desperate to claw back the fleeting esteem of his dirtbag base in the wake of his recent cucking at the hands of Speaker Pelosi, Strawberry Shartcake pathetically lobbed out a pandering little tweet advocating for “Bible literacy classes” in public schools, because he had just seen something about them on the magical teevee box, and that is how Presidential policy initiatives get launched nowadays, how fun.

Maybe that's also why his company finally got around to firing the undocumented workers at his tacky-ass New York golf club. "See? See you guys? I can still hurt brown people! Can I get a ‘lock her up,’ for old time's sake? Guys?” Of course, Eric's just turning right around to hire a new batch of foreign guest workers at his winery, but maybe the America First crowd will be content if America stays in the top 10-or-so.

Hey, look, the Big Dumb Shartdown cost the economy $11 billion! With $3 billion pissed completely away, never to be recovered! Once, when I was a kid, I threw a tantrum, and broke one of my mom's favorite lamps. I got grounded for like, a whole month. All I'm saying is, there should be consequences for a multi-billion-dollar ego-driven shitfit. No taxpayer-funded golf vacations for six months, mister! (Also, impeachment, and then prison.)

Meanwhile, Oleg Deripaska finally got that sweet, sweet, sanctions relief he'd been angling for. Because taint-punting the American economy while simultaneously paying off a Putin-connected oligarch is exactly the sort of thing you do when you're totally not a Russian asset, right?

Word is, Donnie Dotard is shaking his tiny, inadequate, fists in rage at former staffer Cliff Sims, partially out of envy that he can read and write at a high school level, and partially because he put those skills to use writing a saucy tell-all memoir of his time inside the Clown Car Full of Rectums men call “The Trump Administration.” The book is full of all kinds of embarrassing shit, including a section that reveals Littlefinger prefers playing Shart House “tour guide” to doing his dumb ol' real job. Apparently he likes to waddle around, making Bill-n'-Monica jokes, pointed out all the historic chairs he's farted in.

And Perpetually Enraged Beach Bum Chris Christie has a book of his own, full of digs at Team Treasonweasel for being 2 Dumb 2 Collude, taking special time to laugh Nepotism’s Most Perfect Cautionary Tale, Jared Kushner, for believing he'd triumphed over the Russia scandal simply by firing Mike Flynn.

We've actually seen quite a bumper crop of articles lately on young Jar-Jar's comically undeserved sense of self-regard, and its recent hilarious collisions with reality. The kid really seems to have believed he'd worked that Ol’ Kushner Magic on congressional Democrats, hoodwinking them into supporting Boss Turdmaggot's Big Stupid Wall, and was shocked when they didn't. Despite these very public, very costly, failures, expect the kid to continue taking point on pretty much everything going forward, because learning from your mistakes is for CUCKS.

On the one hand, I think it's pretty hilarious that the President's most trusted advisor is incapable of reading the political landscape as well as I, a drunken moron in a luchador mask and superhero bathrobe, can. On the other hand, it's positively terrifying that the President's most trusted advisor is incapable of reading the political landscape as well as I, a drunken moron in a luchador mask and superhero bathrobe, can.

I'm starting to think maybe Roger Stone slept through civics class, as he seems to be under the impression that a series of weird, jaggy, media appearances will deliver him from the rather serious legal jeopardy he faces. Still, the freshly-indicted Ratfucker Prince wanders the streets, bloviating at any camera foolish enough to come too near, insisting he's been treated even worse than Osama bin Laden. Bin Laden, of course, famously whined that he wasn't allowed to don his full Jack Skellington cosplay outfit before all those Navy SEALs shot him to death.

A new study shows that the only significant legislative accomplishment of the entire Shiteweasel Administration, the scam tax bill, failed to produce the economic stimulus that Republicans promised. Me, I think this an unfair metric. The bill did EXACTLY what it was always intended to do: distribute the fruits of recent growth upward to the GOP donor class. Is it really fair to hold these fucks accountable for the empty, insincere, rhetoric that they never even meant? The sneering lies they chuckled while telling, seeking just enough cover to dupe the rubes as they loaded up the getaway car and drove away? Be reasonable.

The Genocidal Mustache Symbiotically Attached to John Bolton's Upper Lip could barely conceal its visibly-secreting endorphins as it discussed the possibility of a military intervention in Venezuela. “Look, I didn't join this administration to sit around, waiting for wars to start themselves! I travelled here from beyond the stars to murder me some humans, and that's what I intend to...I've said too much,” muttered the Murderstache, before skittering away, Bolton in tow.

Hot Tub SpokesGoon/Acting Attorney General Matt Whitaker claims the Mueller investigation is just about ready to wrap things up and head over to Chili's for margaritas and wings. I think it'd kinda cute that this cud-brained partisan hack imagines Bodacious Bob lets him in on anything important, rather than simply sending him on his way with a pat on the head and a lollipop.

And now that the government is open again, and people are getting paid, Nancy Pelosi called up the President to say, “Very well, Little Man Shart. You may have your State of the Union speech now,” and Wee Don said, “Oh thank you Miz Nancy, please don't hurt me anymore,” and Pelosi said “Well, we're fitting you with a shock collar that goes off every time you lie, so we figure you'll get about six minutes in before you pass out.”

‘Tis the season for rescheduling, it would seem, as the Fascist Farthuffer's Former Fixer, Michael Cohen, has agreed to testify before the House Intelligence Committee, now chaired by Adam "Hey, Let's Do Our Jobs For a Change" Schiff, though the session will be behind closed doors. Expect Devin “Pigfucker” Nunes to take advantage of the privacy by selectively leaking Cohen's testimony, or who knows, maybe even straight up trying to murder him?

Anyway, in spite of his approval ratings being sent directly to jail without passing go or collecting $200, Government Cheese Goebbels has somehow convinced himself that he's winning, that America's love for the Big Dumb Wall is matched only by their adoration for their Turd Emperor himself, and that threatening another shutdown is a good idea. It's like burning your hand on a stove, and then immediately tea-bagging the very same stove.

Or maybe he'll just declare a state of emergency, at some non-specific point in the future, after he's exhausted all other avenues. That isn't how emergencies work, old man. If you can schedule it, it can't be an emergency. I know words are hard for you.

Well, I hope I survive the week to blog again, my friends. Word is, it's getting mighty dang cold up here in Chicago. Don't worry though, I have plenty of supplies* to see me through the worst of it.

Mad with laughter and completely fucked up on pure, uncut, schadenfreude, it's a miracle I managed to get a post up tonight. Seriously, I've been cackling so hard it's difficult to type. Watching a wannabe dictator shipwreck on the shores of his own petulance turns out to be rather intoxicating.

You may have missed this little story, of Little Donnie Dotard begging NASA to reach Mars before 2020 so that he would look cool, because he understands concepts of space and time and engineering and budgeting about as well as he comprehends the mechanism of the nigh-miraculous umbrella. You may consider this story sort of a Laughing at President Dumbass appetizer; there are many more courses awaiting you in this blog. Get yourself some sorbet, is what I'm telling you.

Since we last spoke, my friends, the Shart of the Deal has been a veritable whirlwind of negotiation, demonstrating the deal-making prowess he's so famous for. Conman Don figured he'd made a clever move in calling Nancy Pelosi's bluff on cancelling the State of the Union until he opened the damn government, but he hardly had time to extend his tiny, inadequate, hand for a high-five when the Speaker shot back with a formal un-invitation, on official stationary and everything.

“You're welcome to deliver your speech straight into my burning asshole, little man, but the floor of the House will be closed,” proclaimed Queen Nancy, and Shart Garfunkel responded by summoning the full force of his manly, dominating, might and...completely capitulating. Which, it turns out, would be useful practice for later.

The Fascist Farthuffer's Former Fixer, Michael Cohen, backed out of his planned testimony before Congress, citing threats from the President and his newer, much-more-incest-prone fixer, Rudy Giuliani, which is half “Aw dang, I can't believe my favorite show got cancelled,” and half “Oh, so I guess we live in a third world dictatorship now.” Anyway, the Sensei of Sez-Hoo has already been subpoenaed by the Senate Intelligence Committee, so we'll get his testimony soon enough, and for Mike, I'm sure that'll be a nice break from jail.

So, something is going on in Venezuela. I haven't done the reading, so I don't know the ins and outs enough to process it, let alone say anything clever. Anyway, I'll try to get back to it, but if this paragraph is still in the blog when you read it, well, I guess that means I didn't.

Look, I know what everybody's here for tonight, but before we dive into this big beautiful pool full of MAGAt tears, let's take time to check in on some state-level GOP fuckery, if only to remind ourselves that the fight is never-ending, and the enemy remains as ass-backwardly awful as ever.

Utah Republicans are considering a shockingly dehumanizing anti-transgender bill. New Ohio Governor Mike DeWine announced that's he's positively horny to roll back reproductive rights in his state. And the Turdworm Administration just granted a waiver to South Carolina foster care agencies to discriminate their hateful little hearts out so long as they wink and say they're only hating the people God tells them to hate.

You can't take your eyes off these bastards for a minute, is what I'm saying. Next thing you know, they'll be filling important state-level appointments with creepy weirdos who like to dress up in mega-racist Halloween costumes, blackface and all, like...oh wait, that already happened. In Florida, naturally.

So, a gossipy new tell-all from a former Drumpf staffer alleges that Kellyanne Conway has actually been leakiest pimple on the President's ass this whole time, and after two years of his panicked crusade against leakers, she's still there, right under his nose, and I know we're laughing at the President for many much larger reasons today, but spare at least a chuckle or a snort for that amusing little tidbit; the doddering old fool really can't do one single thing right.

Take, for example, the ongoing bungling of shutdown messaging! The official, tightly-coordinated Shart House comms strategy has been “Marie Antoinette, only with more sneering and less charm.”

First came Lara Trump, who cheerfully suggested that the hundred of thousands of federal workers going without pay for a month were merely experiencing a “little bit of pain” in not being able to pay their bills or feed their families, and anyway that's an itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny price to pay for Big Stupid Wall That Nobody Wants and That Won't Work Anyway! Truly, I have never seen such populism!

As Bad-Auditions-Episode-of-American-Idol tone deaf as Lara's comments were, Commerce Secretary Wilbur Ross burst into the room, shouting, “Hold my vodka-spiked Ovaltine.” Wilbur doesn't understand why the peasants don't just take out loans to cover expenses during their time as unwilling pawns in service of a racist goon's ego-driven temper tantrum. “Everybody knows peanut butter sandwiches and tomato soup just taste better when you know you'll be paying 9% interest in a month!” he croaked, before retreating to his home inside an old rotted-out tree stump, to sit upon the pile of coins and baubles he confiscated from the travelers he's murdered.

And President Crotchvoid himself weighed in, suggesting all you struggling families need not worry, just take a stroll on down to Old Man Johnson's corner store, and tell him to put your groceries on your tab for another week or so, a proposition that will certainly be met with a grandfatherly smile rather than a call to the police. Why, perhaps he'll even give junior a penny's worth of candy floss to keep his spirits up as he goes without supper for a few days.

Anyway, some genius looked out at the mess the President and his surrogates were making, and said “This looks like a job for LARRY FUCKIN’ KUDLOW!” Lar-Dawg suggested that furloughed employees were happily “volunteering” to work without pay out of feverish devotion to their Turd Emperor. “Why, they'll probably refuse all future paychecks, insisting their salaries be transferred directly to the wall fund, such is their love and dedication!” Bill Shine is certainly doing a crackerjack job as Communications Director.

Speaking of rewarding failure, looks like Ronna NotRomey McDaniel won a second term as RNC chair, because dammit, you shouldn't leave a job unfinished when there are still so many congressional seats left to lose! Seems to me a little bit like slapping a fresh coat of paint the Maginot Line, but hey, I certainly support the continuation of any and all further blue-wave-enabling activites, wheresoever they may manifest.

Authorities are searching for Colorado Senator Michael Bennet, wanted for questioning in the murder of Ted Cruz on the Senate floor Thursday. See, Senator Shitbeard pulled out his best phony preacher voice to disingenuously whinge about the Democrats’ responsibility for the shutdown, and Bennet rose up, a veritable God of Oh Hell No, to remind Cruz of that time Ted Cruz shut down the whole government just to fluff his own presidential ambitions. Teddy barely had time to whimper, “Mr. Stark, I don't feel so good,” before disintegrating into nothingness.

After a pair of failed votes to re-open the goddamn government, the Senate Republithug Caucus retreated to a private meeting with Vice President Mike Pants that quickly devolved into childish slap-fighting over who was to blame for their current predicament, until Glinda the Good Witch floated in on a bubble to proclaim, “Silly Assclowns! You are ALL turd-gargling sycophants, and equally at fault!” and a valuable lesson was learned by precisely no one.

This week we learned that when young Jared Kushner held out his trick-or-treat sack, asking for a high-level security clearance, career security specialists looked at him and said, “That would be a New-Coke-level shitty decision, lil’ fellah. Hell to tha no.” but they were overruled by a political appointee and so now he gets to sell America's deepest secrets to the Saudis for fun n’ profit. Oh, and there have been at least 30 such instances, of experts getting overruled to grant clearances to various shitweasels in this pack of cheap grifters. Now, this story has kind of faded into the background amidst the week's sexxxier news, but it's pretty damn important, so don't forget about it, okay?

If you're reading this, you probably didn't get arrested by the FBI this morning, and that is a key distinction between your life and Roger Stone’s. Yes, the long arm of the law has finally caught up to the Ratfucking Ghoul who's been making this country shitty since before I was even born. The bad news is, if you can posture and troll your way out of serious legal jeopardy, Stone is sure to walk free. The good news is...you can't.

Anyway, Roger's so toxic now he's been disavowed by the Wandering Ghost of Richard Nixon, and as the case for collusion becomes clearer, suddenly Julian Assange is treating the Ecuadorian embassy staff with a newfound courtesy. Drip drip, motherfuckers.

Taking a quick detour to the 2020 Dem presidential race, Richard Ojeda dropped out, dealing a significant blow to the entertainment value of the primary debates, and it turns out Beto O'Rourke is a Satan-worshipper, which pundits believe will play well in Super Tuesday states.

And of course Shartdown-related headlines continued their predictable trajectory through “Breadlines? In America? Really?” to the practically apocalyptic, with stories of unpaid NASA employees being asked to take breaks from the relatively trivial work of keeping the astronauts on the International Space Station alive to scrub toilets, and of furloughed national park rangers dueling to death over the precious meat in a raccoon corpse. I may have made one of those up.

The last straw seems to have been the massive delays at the nation's airports, as the FAA announced they were down to a single air traffic controller named Wes who was doing an 8-ball every three hours to stay awake and that probably wasn't going to be a sustainable system. Something had to give.

Finally, The Hairplug That Ate Decency called up Nancy Pelosi to plead, “Madame Speaker, I require your aid in removing my boot from atop my own dick. You can have whatever you want. You can have your bill to re-open the government with no wall funding. You can have Eric. Just please please please rescue me from this hole I have dug with my sad little baby hands!” and Nancy said “Nice try, I'm not taking Eric,” and Don said “Dammit, well, I had to try, anyway I've got to slink out and debase myself in front of the entire world now, I'll send a messenger over later with my testes.”

And so the government will re-open at last. The FBI agents who arrested Roger Stone will get paid, millions of Americans can stop worrying and suffering, I'll finally get my damn tax refund, and President Gas Station Urinal Cake has nothing to show for it except for a shiny new expansion to the gap in his approval ratings.

But there was no joy in MAGAville as Weehands McNodick struck out, only confusion, and anger, because somehow Cult45 still believes that this sad, sorry, little man, who radiates insecurity so discernibly that it can be seen from outer space, is “strong.” Ann Coulter seems particularly upset, because she thought she'd finally set America on a track where she'd be able to own slaves in a few years, but now it's all falling apart.

And so Captain Caveman retreats to the Residence, to fume over what's certain to be a full weekend of unceasing coverage of his complete and utter cucking. As smarter folks than I have pointed out, this kind of humiliation is the very worst thing in the world to a narcissist. And because he is very, very, very, stupid, he's threatening to start this whole shitshow over again in three weeks. Some people just can't get enough losing, I guess.

Meanwhile, Speaker Pelosi has problems of her own. She has to have new pet fitted for a collar, and of course there's no way he's potty trained.

Well, that should last you though the weekend, Shower Captives. If I missed anything, forgive me, it's only because I was having so much fun watching every human being on Earth dunk on Little Donnie Two-Scoops.

Well, with the long weekend, there was significantly less madness than unusual, so perhaps HA HA HA JUST KIDDING WE LIVE IN HELL AND IT NEVER EVER STOPS. So why not grab a machete and hack through these weeds with me?

You'll be pleased to learn that our President, who doesn't understand how tariffs work, who doesn't understand how NATO works, who famously lost a battle of wits with an open umbrella, seems to be under the impression that there's a wall around San Antonio, and it's more popular there than the Spurs. Why make it so you have to be at least 35 years old to run for President, if you're just going to elect someone who's dumber than a 5th grader?

More good news, as the Marmalade Shartcannon and his party are hard at work, developing a new policy that will bring hundreds of millions of dollars worth of benefits to the American people. Wait, did I say, “the American people?” Because I meant, “Russian oligarch Oleg V. Deripaska.” Much like the President, I often get the two confused. Which one is his employer again?

The conservative movement has a new Patron Saint of Whinging Victimhood, and it's a whole gaggle of shitty teenagers! So, these shitty little boys took a weekend field trip to protest against a woman's right to bodily autonomy, and decided, "hey, as shitty as that is, I bet we can find a way to be shittier.” And boy howdy, did they ever.

You've seen the videos by now, of the little dirtbags mocking Native American protesters. Somehow, one short day and one large check to a PR firm later, the same little dirtbags are martyrs on the alter of a dishonest, malicious, world that criticized them for...shitbag behavior that anyone with two eyes can see. The white privilege is so thick here, you could cut it with a plastic knife from Chick fil-A.

Boys will boys, I guess. Meaning boys will mock minorities. And boys will make rape jokes at passing girls. Fortunately, they'll be facing the consequences of their actions, when they get to give televised interviews to repeat the bullshit lies that they were actually “praying.” That Gillette commercial came a bit late, don'tcha think?

Anyway, we'll be picking teams for the next Civil War according to reactions to this incident, so please have your own personal thinkpiece filed with Salon by Friday at 5:00.

Plus, the one smirking jag kid has been nominated for a vacancy on the 6th Circuit Court of Appeals. Ok, that's a bit silly, but these little brats did potentially score an invite to the White House. Cool. Wonder if they'll wear blackface for the trip.

I've honestly lost track of where we last left Visibly-Decomposing-From-the-Mouth-Outwards Treasonlaywer Rudy Giuliani...was he belching up some ridiculous lie, or walking it back? It's an old cycle by now, constant and reliable as the fucking tide. Apparently Rudy's worried about his long-since-shredded reputation, whining that his gravestone may read “He lied for Trump.” And I don't think that's fair, either. It should say, “He lied for Trump, and also he fucked his cousin, for he was a lying cousin-fucker.”

Hairplug Himmler silenced once and for all the critics who accuse him of racism, by visiting the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial with Mike Pants. The President’s vigil lasted nearly the length of an entire Clash song, before he returned to the important work of Watching TV All Day, muttering something about there being “very fine people on both sides" of the King assassination as he waddled back to the motorcade.

Mikey Hairshirt had earlier attempted to make the case that Government Cheese Goebbels and MLK are basically the same person because, “they both...um...eat food and...errrr...this is trickier than I thought...both were frequently photographed wearing shoes and...hey, I have to pee. Bye!”

Possibly the least shocking news of the week reveals that somebody is doctoring photos of Baron Golfin von Fatfuk to make him look thinner, and yes, they really are altering images to make his wee lil’ fingers longer. Orwell for Shitheads.

Doesn't that make you want to look at the Shart House organizational flow chart? “Ok, Kirstjen, you're in change of the kiddie concentration camps, Sarah, you take care of the finger-lengthening, and on the opioid crisis, how abooooouuuuut....nobody. Yeah, let's put nobody on that. But I want those phalanges stretched ten minutes ago, dammit!”

As the financial problems pile up for furloughed workers, as increasingly-dire consequences for the American economy draw ever nearer, as his public opinion pummeling risks leaving bruises even his hilarious balloon man pants won't be able to conceal, Pissant Pol Pot has actually increased his ask for re-opening the government. Yes, Shithead's “compromise” bill demands not only billions in wall money, but a total reworking of the nation's asylum laws, practically a direct transcription of Stephen Miller's scrotum tattoo. Unbelievable.

He truly is...the Shart of the Deal. I imagine after this gambit fails, he'll offer a bill that replaces food stamps with vouchers for Trump Steaks and deports everyone working for the Mueller investigation.

Speaking of Bodacious Bob, we learned a few intriguing details about the Mystery Company That Really Does Not Want to Honor Bob's Subpoena; they are not-just-partially-but-wholly owned by a foreign government, and they are getting their colluding corporate keisters kicked in court. They're being fined $50,000 every day they refuse to turn over documents, and folks, that'll buy a lot of borscht. Or some culturally equivalent dish. But probably borscht.

Who else is the Bobadook sneaking up on these days? Why, the murderous taintnibblers of the National Rifle Association, that's who! I try not to get my hopes up over these rumors, but Mr. Mueller, if you're reading this blog,* please please please please please take those death merchants down a few pegs, over laundering Rubles or anything else you might dig up. I haven't wanted anything this badly since puberty.

Also, the Supreme Court gave the Valor Thief in Chief the go-ahead to enforce his hateful ban on transgender troops in the military while the issue is resolved in the courts. I hope Jill Stein voters are feeling really good tonight about their role as accessories to Mitch McConnell’s heist of that SCOTUS seat. Hey, I get it, your pride matters more to you than the safety and humanity of your transgender countryfolk. You're the REAL progressives.

So I guess the Drumpf Administration is looking to arbitrarily relabel “high-level radioactive waste” as “low-level radioactive waste,” not in response to any new scientific findings, but because doing so will make it cheaper to clean up. Yeah, nuclear waste disposal seems like a sensible place to cut corners. The last thing this shitstorm needs is gangs of irradiated mutants, roving the west...now that I think about it, maybe this is why Ryan Zinke finally resigned. (This story is a few weeks old, but I missed it, so it's new to me, dammit!)

Looks like Littlefinger has pretty much cancelled White House press briefings, because of all the bullying Sarah Slanders endures at the hands of those mean ol’ fact-checkers. Still, this action is not without consequences; adrift and listless, the Uncredible Huck has purchased a tank full of fish for her office, which she lies to all day long, just to fill the void.

I see the House passed a bill confirming America's support for NATO, because that's the kind of thing the House has to do nowadays. One of the fun parts of January 2021 will be passing all sorts of laws we never thought we needed before. “Ok, I guess it should be illegal to swap sanctions relief for trademarks for your daughter's shitty jewelry business, wonder why James Madison never thought of that one.”

Meanwhile, the Shartdown is increasingly hamstringing the FBI's ability to, y'know, enforce the law, affecting everything from counterterrorism operations to, ironically, battling Donnie Dotard's favorite demon, MS-13. Me, I'm just disappointed in myself for lacking the foresight to plan any crimes during this period of self-inflicted chaos. I could've broken in the Art Institute, Mission-Impossible-style, and stolen one of those cute little miniature rooms I like so much.

Anyhow, Mitch McConnell has set up a little legislative theatre for Thursday, because watching old dudes fiddle with themselves on C-Span is clearly more important than actually solving the problem that's within his power to solve. Condolences to everybody working without a paycheck, Yertle has some very important posturing to get to before your concerns can be addressed.

See? Long holiday weekend, hardly any madness at all. Now if you'd be so kinda as to loosen the straps on my straightjacket...

*The Special Counsel's affection for a well-crafted poo joke is widely documented, of course.

Folks, at this point, I'd really love it if a bunch of orderlies burst through the door, tied me to a hospital bed, and administered shock therapy, because that might mean that I'm locked up in an asylum in a bad 50's movie, and that none of this is really happening. I'm pretty sure it's all real though, so let's wade through it and get on with our weekends.

“You come at the Queen, you best not miss.” This is the lesson President Crotchrot learned this week, as Speaker Pelosi yanked the bully pulpit from his tiny, inadequate, hands, pointing to the “No shirt, no open government, no State of the Union speech” sign in the Speaker's office. “Oh, you want a captive prime time audience so you can spin and lie and blame Democrats for your shutdown? Instead of that, how would you like a big fat plate of my shit?” More on this later.

Well, you've finally done it. You've gone and pissed Mike Pants off. The Vice President’s hairshirt is halfway up his ass because folks're criticizing Mother for taking a job at a school that prohibits LGBTQ students or staff, or to put it in plain English, a fucking bigoted school. Like all religious fanatics, Mr. Pants furiously insists that his own personal prejudices be granted the protections of "religious liberty." As for the rights of those the school discriminates against, he growled, "The little deviants should count themselves lucky we don't throw them in fucking camps!” Or at least you know he really really really wanted to.

It was actually a banner week for ol’ Number Two, as he took a page from George W. Bush's (coloring) book, proclaiming MISSION ACCOMPLISHED in Syria just as ISIS claimed responsibility for an attack that killed four Americans. Not a bright lad, that Vice President.

An inspector general's report says the General Services Administration ignored the Constitution in allowing Pumpkin Spice Pol Pot to continue leasing the post office he uses for his tacky-ass Washington, D.C. hotel. So, this “Constitution” thing...are we still doing that? Is the rule of law still a thing? I'm really asking, by the way.

Lordy, somebody put The Goalposts on the missing persons list; they were last seen getting shoved into an unmarked van by Noticably Decomposing Cousin-Fucker Rudy Giuliani. Where they are now, nobody knows. Rudy's steady, gradual, progression from “Donald Trump is as the most innocent newborn babe, pure as the driven snow” to “Ok, so he was surrounded by crooks and traitors but he was too busy cheating on his wife to commit any crimes himself,” has been, I confess, awfully amusing to watch.

With Steve King's shocking racism, which nobody knew about ‘til two weeks ago, vanquished at last, the GOP marched boldly forward, free from the chains of bigotry that once held them down. Except for Congressjag Jason Smith, who screeched “GO BACK TO PUERTO RICO” at Congressman Tony Cárdenas, on the floor of the House, which, now that I think about it, is maybe sorta racist.

You probably hadn't heard of Jason Smith before this. This is a perfect example of Shower Cap's 7th Principle of Conservative Politics: Whenever you hear a rank-and-file Republican Congressman's name for the first time, it's because he did something criminal or hateful or in direct contradiction to his own loudly-professed morals, or any combination of the preceding.

Anyway, we were discussing how Extremely Not Racist the post-Steve King Republican Party is. Congressdopes Andy Harris and Phil Roe brought Holocaust-denying Internet Troll Chuck Johnson to Capitol Hill for a meeting, and also to show off their Not Steve King cred, cuz only super un-racist dudes hang out with known white supremacists, “to discuss genetic testing and DNA.” Oh, you hadn't heard of either Harris or Roe? Consult Cap's 7th Principle.

Don't worry though, Steve, the “religious” right has your back! Yes, several of the most prominent fake Christians in America banded together to demand King be reinstated to his committees, because while most folks have enough basic human decency to understand that a guy who hangs out with Nazis is not a good guy, that bar is still somehow too high for these pompous, perpetually-moralizing, goons to clear.

Anyhow, Government Cheese Goebbels himself surely cleared up the whole “racism” misunderstanding once and for all, with the revelation that he fought to deny Puerto Rico access to any disaster relief funding at all in the wake of Hurricane Maria, and that's so fucking evil I won't make a joke about it. I am very tired, my friends, of seeing the powers of our federal government weaponized by hateful men to hurt the vulnerable.

That's not really fair of me, I know. I need to be inclusive. It's wrong to ignore the hateful women who are also hurting people. So let's talk about Kirstjen Nielsen, who's spent the last few months of her life implementing and lying about the Pigshit Administration's abominable child separation policy. Turns out, these fucks separated thousands more children from their families than we knew about, and they were doing it for months before they announced the policy to public.

Fortunately, Oregon Senator Jeff Merkley is on the case, calling on the FBI to investigate Secretary Nielsen for lying about this atrocity she's been committing in our name. I hope it happens. I know lying to Congress is the hip new trend with these fucks, but it's still a federal crime.

Well, we've uncovered possibly the most pathetic aspect of the massive criminal enterprise that landed the Individual Wonder in the Oval Office; a scheme to rig online polls in his favor. Online polls. One of them was on the Drudge Report, for fuck's sake....can you imagine spending money (or boxing gloves, even) to fix a fucking Drudge poll? I'm starting to understand why this dolt needed his daddy to bail him out so many times.

A federal judge administered a much-deserved spanking to Scott Walker over his not-just-lame-but-truly-pathetic-duck session attack on voting rights, leading Wisconsin Republicans to retreat to their underground lair to plot fresh new attacks on democracy, and also to brainstorm proposals on how to get rid of Dick Tracy.

Ex-U.S. Senator/Prostitute Aficionado David Vitter, whose career in electoral politics was utterly obliterated by my all-time favorite political ad, has found a new career, as a paid Russian agent (or “lobbyist” if you're feeling generous), working on behalf of sanctioned Russian oligarch Oleg Deripaska. Who says there are no second acts in American lives?

Anyhow, we're still stuck in the Big Dumb Government Shartdown, because a certain fuckhead backed himself into a corner and can't find his way out. But whatever the Shart of the Deal lacks in negotiating skill, he more than makes up for in childlike petulance, and he figured the best available move was to cancel a Congressional trip to Belgium and Afghanistan, headed by Speaker Pelosi herself.

Did this act interfere with Congress’ duty to oversee our foreign wars? Yep. Did it endanger lives, because of course these trips are kept secret for security reasons? Of course! But Il Douche sure did own the libs, didn't he? DIDN'T HE?

...oh wait, actually he just made sure Pelosi stayed in town to keep on hammering him as his poll numbers keep on falling amidst his unpopular showdown. If this were a fable, he'd realize “In owning the libs, I succeeded only in owning myself,” and congratulate himself on a hard-learned lesson, but this isn't a fable, and he is incapable of any form of learning.

I guess the entire rationale behind the shutdown at this point is an anonymous quote in a horseshit, fear-mongering, Examiner article from a rancher who says she found a prayer rug on her property, and I'm sure the “prayer rug” turns out to be a Spongebob beach towel, or a Cardinals hoodie, or, y'know, nothing.

Say, I heard something about some big Buzzfeed article last night? I was deeply engrossed in some Tolstoy* at the time, so I haven't gotten to it yet, but it's probably nothing. I mean, what could really be so important at this point? What, did the President order Michael Cohen to lie to Congress, or something? Because that would be news. That would put impeachment on the table. That would actually put impeachment right in the center of the table, displacing whatever creepy-ass centerpiece Melania picked out.

By now you know that this is exactly what the Buzzfeed article says, and that I couldn't come up with a better gag to drop it into this blog. That's okay, you probably need don't any added humor to laugh your ass off at how much trouble Shart-Shart is in now. Nixon trouble. Supporting-character-in-a-Jurassic-Park-movie trouble.

And because every so often life is genuinely perfect, it turns out Senator Amy Klobuchar asked the Adderall-Addled Assclown's Attorney General nominee, William Barr, about just such a scenario, during his confirmation hearing this very week. “Oh yeah, that shit's criminal as fuck, Senator,” said Barr, “You'd have to be a massive fucking idiot, and a giant crook to boot, to try something like that.”

Of course, as I was writing this, news broke of the Mueller office disputing aspects of the article. This is fairly significant, since the Mueller team never comments on anything, even that one time the President referred to the Special Counsel as a “lying poohead.” Well, thanks Bob. We were all only having a little fun. It's like showing up to the birthday party and all the kids are wearing funny hats and shit and then they open the pizza boxes but there's no pizza inside only math homework.

Everybody's trying parse out precisely what the statement means, and I'd offer my two cents, but ultimately, I'm just a schmuck in a bathrobe, so I'll leave this one to the experts.

Desperate for a distraction, Team Treasonweasel announced a second summit with North Korea's Kim Jong-un, because when you're about to get impeached, even being outmaneuvered by a cheap, third-world, dictator in front of the whole planet counts as improved coverage, I guess. In lieu of a challenge coin, the government will be issuing a ceremonial string of anal beads, each depicting an empty promise Lil’ Donnie Two-Scoops fell for.

Anyway, looks like the Velveeta Vulgarian has scheduled another televised announcement for tomorrow afternoon. Will it be the long-teased emergency declaration? Nothin’ like a little tyrannical power grab to kick the weekend off right. I wonder if they'll allow tailgating at the gulag.

Alright, that’s all I got for ya, folks. We're expecting some snow up here tonight, so I gotta rush out and stock up on supplies** before it hits. If I missed anything, well, get your own damn news, I'm not a machine, y'know.

*playing MarioKart drunk

**beer

P.S. Getting back to the SotU reverse invite, here's a little bonus content for any Alanis fans out there:

NANCY PELOSI strides to stage, clad in an oversized button-up shirt and leather pants. She sits down at the piano, and begins to sing:

Like anyone would be
I am amused by your struggles dealing with me
Like any left-leaning Speaker
I have concerns for the union and its state